


catch that buzz

by ofjisoos (swelter)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Military, Fluff, M/M, really there's no actual plot i think it's just fluff with 1920s jazz music playing in the bg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7474689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swelter/pseuds/ofjisoos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it’s all too easy to lose yourself in the spin of the city and end up succumbing to some kind of self-consuming addiction or another as a result. seungcheol supposes he isn’t too far off the mark, personally having picked his poison in the form of hong jisoo.</p><p>b-side to <em>kill and run</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	catch that buzz

**Author's Note:**

> reading _kill and run_ first would probably give you a little bit more context but i guess this can be read independently as well. thank you to niz (ao3 user hjs) for the morale boost! couldn't have finished it without you  <3
> 
> also disclaimer: as with _kill and run_ , this is probably not historically accurate.

the parties at the fabled wen estate are something that they absolutely _cannot_ miss, according to seungcheol’s squad subordinate kim mingyu. 

 

he says this over the extra proportion of food he’d sneaked from the kitchen (it’s like the privilege comes with him assisting the cook more than he does actual work on the military camp base), at dinner time in the mess hall. 

 

the place hums with amiable chatter and clangs of cutlery against bowls as the inhabitants of the camp wolf down their food. there’s a kind of loose and easy atmosphere that contrasts greatly with the stiff upper lip order and conduct surrounding the camp during the daytime. 

 

“don’t we have to have an invitation for that?” hansol looks up from poking at the lumpy meat in his own watery stew. he’s a new recruit, assigned to seungcheol’s squad just a few days ago. he’s a little bit on the quieter side, but seungcheol will be damned if he finds another squad member just as dedicated as the eighteen-year-old. 

 

mingyu makes a noise that indicates disagreement through his loud chewing. he swallows before saying, “it’s free-for-all. can you believe it?” he gulps down water and releases a satisfied ‘ahh’, leaning back against his seat.“so. we should definitely go saturday night.”

 

“i heard that the wen estate goes on for miles,” hansol’s eyes are wide, reflecting an endearing sort of naivety, “and the mansion is so big, you could get lost in it.”

 

“sure, it is,” mingyu nods, “and it’s got a massive pool, and jazz playing on the grounds at all times. there are other things, of course, but that’s for us to find out when we go.”

 

“ _if_ we go,” wonwoo interjects, “sounds like a distant land you’re making up right on the spot.” he’s abandoned his meal for a book instead, but even he can’t seem to resist participating in the conversation.

 

“i promise you, i’m not. i have very reliable sources.”

 

wonwoo looks a little apprehensive, but he flips to the next page of his book and doesn’t say anything in reply.

 

seungcheol clears his throat. “you seem to be forgetting that you’re saying all of this with your squad sergeant sitting at the same table.” 

 

“you’re a _buck_ sergeant,” mingyu stresses, giving him a playful shove in the way only he is entitled to. everyone claims him to be seungcheol’s achilles’ heel, though he swears up and down that he doesn’t play favourites. anyway, it’s really not his fault kim mingyu’s so lovable. “come on. it’ll be fun! you don’t have to tell lieutenant lee.” 

 

seungcheol considers it, pushing aside his empty bowl. their personal business outside of the camp base has very little to do with internal affairs, so he supposes it’s fine, but if any of them get into trouble, it’ll be his responsibility. he glances at some of the higher ranking officers at the other table, basking in their own camaraderie of sorts. he’s heard them talk about the exact same party for days now. it seems that the hype surrounding the wen estate is an all-around infectious one.

 

“ah, what the hell,” he says, shrugging. the beginnings of a smile creep onto his face when mingyu pumps a fist in the air, slinging an arm over hansol’s shoulders. wonwoo looks nowhere as thrilled, but mingyu’s persistently poking at him and he nods his consent, albeit reluctantly.

 

and so, saturday night at the wen estate it is.

 

 

 

 

while mingyu’s theory that there’s jazz music playing at the wen estate at all times remains to be proven accurate, seungcheol’s first impression of the party tells him that it might as well be. they arrive to a lurid scene — the mansion’s just as big as hansol had described it, and every part of it is super-charged with light and _life_ , unlike anything seungcheol’s seen before.

 

the collective sound of trumpets and saxophones and the singer’s belting and the ruckus of the crowd greets them like a warm embrace of the affable host they have yet to meet. they’re immediately surrounded by a flock of flappers escorting them to a table. seungcheol’s pulse heightens to the beat of the drums, and the first swig he takes of the champagne poured into his glass feels like fuel to his adrenaline-blazed body. 

 

he surrenders himself to the music, tapping his foot as he makes small talk with adoring ladies swarming his squad like bees to honey. it probably has largely to do with the fact that they are distinguishably clad in their uniforms. seungcheol doesn’t mind it, mingyu _definitely_ doesn’t mind it, but hansol and wonwoo remain somewhat stiff in their seats. 

 

“come on, loosen up!” mingyu claps hansol on the back. hansol meekly laughs, face colouring when the flapper on his right pinches his cheek. he’s obviously the least accustomed to the extravagant setting, constantly fidgeting and peering around with owl-like eyes, but making his best effort to nod to the music and answer queries from the doting ladies.

 

wonwoo isn’t as awkward, just that his mind appears to be elsewhere. he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, downs the last bit of the champagne in his glass, and gets up from the table, disappearing into the crowd.

 

“leave him alone,” seungcheol swats at mingyu, “he’ll get used to it.” 

 

there is a lapse in the conversation he’s been having with the woman next to him. possibly out of boredom, she skitters off from his side to the next table. it’s no matter. the alcohol’s getting to his head — there’s a pleasant buzz in his cranial spaces that makes his vision go just a little hazier. the bright colours tone down to just the right amount of saturation, enough to make the whole scene seem more like a psychedelic mirage.

 

the atmosphere through his eyes is awash with a softer glow, but something catches his eye and he finds himself affixed to the source.

 

there is a young man looking in his direction. he looks to be around seungcheol’s age, lean frame resting against the pillar next to an ominously shaped gargoyle. surrounded by a few female company himself, the stranger continues to entertain them whilst making a point to glance in seungcheol’s way every now and then. 

 

seungcheol blinks. there is something so magnetic about the brief moments in which they make eye contact. the young man is refined in his manner of dress, but his hunched shoulders take his overall elegance down a couple of notches. his dark, restless, feline-like eyes wander, but never fail to come back to meet seungcheol’s own gaze.

 

“so what about it, buck?” mingyu interrupts, gesturing with his arms to the entire room, “pretty fancy, right?” the sparkle in every inch of the room lights up his eyes, along with sheer enthusiasm at simply being in that exact moment. “i think i could live like this forever!” 

 

“be careful what you wish for,” someone tuts just behind them. 

 

a gentleman slinks into the vacant chair next to seungcheol. he’s tall, with hair slicked neatly to the sides and an air of suaveness surrounding him from head to toe. smiling warmly at the entire table, he holds out his hand for them to shake.

 

“my name is wen junhui,” he introduces himself, “and welcome to the wen estate. how’re you boys liking it so far?”

 

“it’s amazing,” seungcheol offers the host a genuine smile in return, “we’ve heard so much about your parties and decided it’d be too bad if we missed it.” he glances towards mingyu, who’s giving him an ‘i-told-you-so’ sort of look. “i think it’s safe to say that none of us are disappointed.”

 

“that’s very good to know,” junhui beams like a gleeful child being offered a sweet, “may i know your names, officers?”

 

seungcheol takes it upon him to introduce himself and his comrades. “wonwoo…” he trails off, looking around for any sign of the bespectacled young man, “…is off somewhere.”

 

“somewhere having a good time, i hope,” junhui takes a bottle of wine from a passing man in a tailcoat and pours the drink into each of their glasses. he raises his own, before taking a swig. the rest of the men at the table follow suit.

 

seungcheol didn’t think it was possible for his surroundings to get even noisier, but it does. the rhythm of the music quickens, the burlesque dancers wave their hips relentlessly to the encouraging shouts of many and there’s uproar somewhere when yet another person pops a bottle of champagne open. it makes him wonder just how exactly a man about his age is capable of orchestrating this grand chaos in its entirety. 

 

“there’s someone i’d like _you_ to meet,” junhui briefly touches seungcheol’s shoulder, a knowing gleam in his eye. he raises his chin to look over the masses of bodies in their line of sight. seungcheol looks around with him, feeling inexplicably nervous.

 

“jisoo!” junhui calls out, interest piqued by an unidentified person amongst the din. the person emerging from the midst of the pulsating crowd makes his way to the table, and seungcheol feels his heart do a flip in his chest. 

 

it’s the stranger he’d been sharing looks with from before. 

 

up close, seungcheol takes note of the planes that make up jisoo’s face, and how angular his features appear to be, only for his face to gain a little bit more fullness when he breaks out into a smile.

 

“hong jisoo, the city’s bachelor of the month,” junhui says with a flourish.

 

jisoo laughs, and that’s when seungcheol knows he’s gone for good.

 

 

 

 

for the next few months, seungcheol gets to meet jisoo almost every week. 

 

they’ve established a pattern in which they’d make eye contact for the longest period of time, until one of them approaches the other, and they escape the noise in favour of somewhere quieter. it’s usually the gardens, with their sprawling maze of hedges and assorted plants seungcheol hadn’t even known existed before, gravel path lined with twinkling lights enough for them to make their way through the low-light atmosphere. 

 

within the span of time of their recurring meetings, he’s learned and committed to memory the intent look jisoo has on when he listens to seungcheol talk, and the placid cadence of jisoo’s voice when he spares seungcheol his own share of stories. 

 

the best part of it all, seungcheol thinks, is how he gets jisoo to open up with every passing week. the little bit of awkwardness in his movements and pattern of speech is deeply ingrained in jisoo, but the way he lights up and his shoulders relax when he is around seungcheol indicates that seungcheol is doing something right. 

 

but despite the obvious tension between them, seungcheol had never gone very far with him in terms of physical contact. jisoo flinches when seungcheol initiates anything a little more intimate than the subtle brushes of their fingers or shoulders against each other, or that one time seungcheol had somehow been lucky enough to exchange a friendly hug with him. for every step seungcheol takes to be closer to jisoo, he flits away in his reluctance.

 

it’s a mind game they play, and it’s one in which seungcheol is a willing participant.

 

occasionally, seungcheol takes mingyu, wonwoo and hansol with him to the mansion, but junhui is kind (and seungcheol suspects, conniving) enough to extend an exclusive invitation to him without his comrades, especially after a certain incident involving a very drunk mingyu and an angry socialite, in which seungcheol’s reputation was put at stake.

 

the invitation for junhui’s birthday celebration, however, arrives at the camp base in a silver-trimmed envelope addressed to all of them. seungcheol rubs his thumb over the fine print on the flap before opening it, the rest of his squad looking over his shoulder. a piece of parchment slides out of it and on it are all the details of the party, with a post scriptum that says, _wear your best_.

 

when they get to the mansion that weekend, garbed in their best attempt at ‘best’, seungcheol gives a hurried warning to the rest before going off to seek jisoo. he finds jisoo already waiting at the doors leading to the gardens. 

 

“hel—”

 

“come on,” jisoo gestures for seungcheol to follow him. seungcheol follows him down an unfamiliar route, away from their usual path and up flights of stairs around the corner. they end up on a terrace, isolated from the party. seungcheol can barely hear the usual hubbub from the inside of the mansion from here. he walks over to the railing, and finds that it overlooks the entirety of the wen estate — as well as the rest of the city. 

 

“wow.”

 

“right?” jisoo joins him, leaning against the railing, “i come up here whenever i can. it’s peaceful. it’s just — i can hear myself think here, and it’s like- like an escape.” 

 

there are unspoken words seungcheol knows are hanging right on the tip of his tongue. jisoo’s frowning as if he’s trying to sort out his thoughts. the summer night breeze sweeps past them, and jisoo is vacant, far away from where they are standing at the moment. seungcheol tentatively nudges him, bringing him back.

 

“sorry,” jisoo offers a thin smile. he looks out to the city skyline. “seems silly, i guess, wanting to escape from home.”

 

“that’s what i did,” seungcheol jokes. “this is the farthest i’ve been from home.”

 

“where is home?”

 

“i came from a small, quiet town,” seungcheol drums his fingers on the railing, “everybody knew each other. my brother used to take me to the meadow near the more rural part of the land and we’d play baseball.” a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, “we’d pretend to be like those athletes — like in the papers, y’know? and we’d imagine a crowd cheering for us, too.”

 

“that sounds nice. the city’s all i’ve ever known.” the wistfulness in jisoo’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

 

“it’s so _different_ here,” seungcheol exhales heavily, suddenly overcome with a tightness in his chest, “it’s all so loud and bright and i don’t think i’ll ever get used to it.”

 

“do you miss home?”

 

“so much,” seungcheol clutches his chest for the dramatics, even though there is actual pain somewhere underneath his ribs, “it hurts me.” he links his pinky with jisoo’s, “but it hurts a little less when i’m with you.”

 

jisoo turns to look at their joined fingers, then up at seungcheol’s face. he swallows, noticeably, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. seungcheol feels his own nerves kick in. he leans in, closing the gap between them as he stares at jisoo’s lips. they’re so soft — seungcheol inhales through his nose when his own meets them. jisoo kisses back, careful and gentle, like the rest of him. 

 

when they part, seungcheol leaves another quick kiss on the corner of jisoo’s mouth. there’s a part of him that wants more - but, this. this is enough. the hazy look in jisoo’s eyes and the tint in his cheeks is enough.

 

“took you long enough,” jisoo mumbles, and seungcheol laughs. 

 

it’s like a spell had broken between the two of them, and there’s nothing but a sense of belonging seungcheol hasn’t felt in a while deep in his gut. he lets jisoo lean against him and they watch the fireworks in junhui’s honour go off in the distance, content in their shared silence, just the two of them, away from the rest of the howling world.

 

 

 

 

as much as he tries, seungcheol can’t seem to keep his mind off of jisoo from then on. he often finds himself distracted back at the camp base, and even his superiors and juniors had taken notice of his unusual absentmindedness. he’s still giddy from the effect of his first kiss with jisoo — his mind replays the scenario over and over again, and at the worst of times. for the most part, he’s left feeling silly when caught in his stupor, but he can’t find it in himself to be angry about it when he has jisoo’s serene smile permanently stuck in his head.

 

“you’re barely on earth nowadays,” mingyu shakes his head. he’s atop a ladder, fumbling with the light bulb on the dormitory ceiling. the bulb fizzled out on friday, after the light had been ceaselessly flickering for the past week, and it is all up to mingyu to conjure his midas touch and fix it for them. 

 

seungcheol’s just mostly glad he’s not considered the honorary handyman around, considering his current aptitude (or lack thereof). he’s laid out on his bunk watching mingyu, humming a tune under his breath. 

 

“i think he’s been meeting someone at the wen estate,” wonwoo says, matter-of-factly, “he’s always disappearing off somewhere every time we go.”

 

“the same could be said about you,” mingyu shoots back, frowning as he tries to screw the new light bulb into the socket.

 

“but i’m not,” wonwoo says, but doesn’t further elaborate. mingyu turns to give him a suspicious look, to which he just responds with a shrug.

 

“is it really your business to know?” seungcheol’s amused by their probing. he has to admit, though, that most of the exhilaration comes from the very fact that it’s a secret. all the sneaking around he’s been doing with jisoo has become the highlight of every party he attends at the wen estate, rather than the usual cheap thrills everyone else would indulge in throughout the night.

 

“it is if even lieutenant lee’s been complaining to me about you,” mingyu grumbles, descending the ladder and tossing the burnt-out bulb into the waste can. “i know i said i was planning to get in his good books, but not like _this_.”

 

seungcheol laughs. “sorry. i’ll try and keep my head out of the clouds for your sake.”

 

“for yours, too,” mingyu picks up the ladder and puts it aside, wiping the sweat off of his brow. “you won’t stay a sergeant any longer with that kind of attitude.”

 

“uh, cap?” hansol walks in from the bathroom, hair still wet from the shower he’d just taken, “do you know a place where i can get the small collar badge? i lost mine.” 

 

“i’ll get it for you tomorrow,” seungcheol waves a dismissive hand in hansol’s direction, “i’m going to the city anyway.”

 

“okay, thank you,” hansol nods. he turns to mingyu. “hate to be the one to tell you this, gyu, but the shower’s leaking again.”

 

mingyu sighs and heads over to the bathroom, marking the end of their discussion over seungcheol’s speculated love life.

 

 

 

 

the next day, seungcheol drives out to the city with a couple of other sergeants. the military vehicle they arrive in draws some attention, but everyone’s too busy brisk-walking to wherever they’re heading off to to properly care. by now, the hustle-bustle of the streets has become less of a surprise to seungcheol than a norm. he weaves in and out of the crowd after his group disperses, off to their separate directions, after agreeing to meet up by a certain time. he locates the army supply store between a bakery and a tailor shop and goes in to get hansol’s collar badge. 

 

after a few extra minutes in the store poring over leather boots he can’t afford, he steps out, deciding to roam around by himself before returning to the meeting point. a couple of ladies pass by, tittering and eyeing him boldly from head-to-toe. he tips his newsboy cap, going along his way. passing by the tailor shop, he peers in, absently thinking of one of his shirts that needs mending. just as he’s about to continue walking, he sees jisoo. 

 

standing inside with his arms crossed, jisoo seems to be waiting around for something, evidently bored. as if on cue, jisoo turns to look outside — at him — and seungcheol raises a hand in greeting. jisoo’s jaw drops, and he says something to an unidentified person before making his way out of the shop.

 

“i wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

 

“neither was i.”

 

seungcheol’s about to step closer towards jisoo when jisoo backs away slightly, eyes darting towards the opening door of the shop he’d just stepped out of. a middle-aged couple — seungcheol quickly assumes them to be jisoo’s parents — approaches them, sparing seungcheol a dubious look each.

 

“who’s this young man, jisoo?” mrs. hong asks. she’s eyeing his untucked, plain shirt and dirtied pants through obviously deprecating eyes.

 

“he is… a friend,” jisoo walks on egg shells in the face of his high-browed parents. 

 

seungcheol nods politely and offers his best smile. fortunately for him, his effortless flair for geniality quickly puts the hong family at ease — jisoo looks especially relieved. after sometime, seungcheol excuses himself to get back to the camp. he spares a last glance over his shoulder towards jisoo as he walks away.

 

the smile on jisoo’s face is almost childlike, waving at him as his parents are preoccupied with looking at something through the window of the next store. seungcheol waves back. 

 

he’s lucky it’s still the weekend. had it been any other day, his track record would’ve deteriorated immensely, yet again, due to his lack of concentration.

 

 

 

 

the next time he meets jisoo and his parents, it is through an invitation for dinner at the hong residence. the place is nowhere as big as the wen mansion, but it holds the same grandeur, with the mahogany furniture and fine china plates and polished silverware. but the real gem of the palace, seungcheol decides, is jisoo himself.

 

“did no one tell you it’s rude to stare?” jisoo laughs, soft and playful. prior to dinner, he’s assigned a task to show seungcheol the billiard room. he leads the way with ease, even daring to entwine his fingers with seungcheol’s as they walk through the halls. it’s quiet — the only watching eyes are of those in the paintings on the walls.

 

“i can’t help it,” seungcheol laughs, “you’re so pretty.”

 

the existing colour in jisoo’s cheeks deepens as he pulls seungcheol into the billiard room, closing the doors behind him. seungcheol suggestively wiggles his eyebrows at him. jisoo ignores him, going over to the gramophone in the corner of the room and putting on a record. seungcheol walks around the room, marvelling the intricate designs on the walls and ceilings, the tiny, fragile porcelain ornaments on the mantelpiece, and the countless volumes of books lining the enormous shelf on one end of the room.

 

a set of drawers along the wall displays framed pictures of the hong family, extended and all. seungcheol searches for jisoo amongst them. he spots a teenaged boy in a family portrait, just him and his two parents. he turns to compare the image with _his_ jisoo, with the enticing eyes and pink lips forming the saccharine smile that’s been stubbornly stuck in seungcheol’s mind as of late.

 

seungcheol goes up to the billiard table, rapping his knuckles on the surface. “i imagine you’re really good at this.” 

 

“i’m decent,” jisoo shrugs. he walks over to seungcheol, slipping his hands into the other’s like it’s the most natural thing to do. he pulls seungcheol towards the open space in front of the fireplace, guiding one of seungcheol’s hands towards his waist and placing one of his own on seungcheol’s shoulder. “how are things at camp?”

 

“the usual,” seungcheol finds himself being subtly guided by jisoo to move to the music. his movements are a little bit more awkward than jisoo’s, hesitant and unknowing of the next steps but with jisoo’s assistance, they sway relatively better than seungcheol would on his own. “you took me to the billiard room to dance with me?” 

 

“i’m a little bit better at this than billiard,” jisoo laughs, “but it’s really only because mother had me take lessons when i was in school.” he lets seungcheol twirl him, and pull him closer. “you’re not so bad yourself.”

 

“you know, i’ve been greatly distracted,” seungcheol tells him, pressing his cheek against jisoo’s, “i think i might lose my sergeant title soon.”

 

jisoo withdraws, eyes wide with concern and eyebrows knitted together. “but how —?” he freezes on the spot, killing their flow of rhythm. 

 

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding!” seungcheol chuckles and pulls him in again, rotating their position to let jisoo lean against the billiard table. “but i have been really distracted. i can’t seem to stop thinking of the last time we met at the wen estate.” 

 

“oh,” jisoo says, biting his lip. “i keep thinking about it, too, if i’m being honest.”

 

seungcheol’s hands freeing from jisoo’s, he places them on the edge of the billiard table, trapping jisoo in close proximity. “i could eat you up.”

 

jisoo starts laughing, almost uncontrollably. it’s punctuated with short, sharp intakes of breaths and the corners of his eyes give way to a bifurcation of crinkles. “you’re terrible.”

 

“you know you love it,” seungcheol grins, going on to kiss the spot just behind jisoo’s earlobe. the shiver running through jisoo’s body only drives him to pepper more kisses all over jisoo’s skin, his hands settling on jisoo’s lower back, pulling him closer. 

 

jisoo hums contentedly when seungcheol presses his lips flush against jisoo’s, parting them to let their tongues move languidly together. jisoo has his fingers tangled in seungcheol’s hair, and the lack of space between them is possibly the only thing keeping their hearts from beating right out of their chests. detaching from the heated kiss, seungcheol traces his lips along jisoo’s jawline and hooks his fingers around jisoo’s belt loops. an experimental roll of seungcheol’s hips against jisoo’s has jisoo releasing a low moan.

 

a knock on the door abruptly springs them apart. “dinner’s ready, mr. hong.” 

 

“we’ll be out in a second!” jisoo calls out, voice scratchy.

 

their eyes meet, and they burst into a fit of muted laughter. jisoo pats down the tufts of disheveled hair on seungcheol’s head. there’s a tenderness to his touch that seungcheol’s sure is capable of shattering his ribcage into fragments. he makes sure to give jisoo a last lingering kiss just before they walk out of the room, trying their best to feign innocence for the rest of the evening.

 

 

 

 

dinner is somewhat of a quiet affair. jisoo’s father asks seungcheol about his line of work, and seungcheol gives the customary answers. jisoo listens, and so does his mother. the gaps in which there is no conversation are filled with sounds of forks and knives scraping on plates, but even then, they’re hardly audible. there’s a stuffy formality in the air which makes seungcheol become hyperaware of his own actions. he’s too used to the noisy eating in the mess hall, that there is a need for him to minimise the noise he makes when he eats. 

 

under the table, seungcheol nudges jisoo’s foot with a small smirk. jisoo eyes him from across the table, lifting up the corners of his mouth. he nudges back, and the rest of dinner time is saved from being a complete bore through their exchange of secret prods and looks as mr. hong talks about his prior experience of being in the army. seungcheol feels simultaneously like a child and an adult, toeing at jisoo’s legs and trying to keep up the conversation at the same time.

 

“jisoo, have you heard?” his mother speaks for possibly the first time that evening, putting her fork down with a delicate tinkle against the plate, “your second cousin, park sooyoung, is having her debutante ball next week. i think you should bring sergeant choi here along.” her raised eyebrows indicate a hidden meaning to which jisoo only responds with a slight, but poorly disguised grimace.

 

“i don’t think it’s wise,” seungcheol cuts in cleanly, “for me to seek a partner at the moment. i’m too busy with my duties.” he sees jisoo hiding a smile behind his napkin, and fights his own amusement from surfacing. he feels a gentle poke against his foot.

 

“that’s right,” mr. hong nods solemnly, “plenty of time for that later.” 

 

seeming to have no plausible response, mrs. hong purses her lips before calling for the help to clear the table. once they’re done, she declares her retirement to her room, saying something about having a headache. mr. hong then ropes seungcheol into a game of billiard — it turns out that seungcheol is quite terrible at it himself — and the evening ends with jisoo accompanying seungcheol out the door.

 

the two of them stand on the threshold, arms hanging awkwardly at their sides. 

 

“do you wanna go see a film with me next weekend?” 

 

“which film?”

 

“we’ll decide at the theatre,” seungcheol takes hold of jisoo’s hands, bringing them up to his lips, “i just really want a day with you all to myself.” 

 

“alright,” jisoo says, simply. he throws a quick look over his shoulder. seungcheol feels the anxiousness in the slight tremble of his hands, despite his seemingly calm facade. one of the windows in the upper floor lights up. birds coo from the top of a branch on the birch tree. behind it, the sun’s hiding away behind purplish-pink smeared clouds in the sky.

 

“can i kiss you again?” seungcheol blurts out. jisoo freezes, looking at him with unblinking eyes. in that second, seungcheol regrets it, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks. “i’m sorry. just forget i said anything.”

 

“no— i,” there’s a small crease between jisoo’s eyebrows. his eyes search all over seungcheol’s face, and it’s like he’s seeing right _through_ him. “yeah. sure.” the way he squeezes seungcheol’s hands is like a gesture of affirmation.

 

the grin spreading on seungcheol’s face threatens to split it in half. he cups jisoo’s face, intending on giving him a peck, but when their lips touch, jisoo holds him in place for a little while longer. he feels jisoo smile into the kiss. 

 

in that moment, seungcheol’s almost convinced that things between them can only go further up from here onwards.

 

 

 

 

next saturday evening, seungcheol trades out his soiled white t-shirt and tactical pants for a crisp combination of a dress shirt, suit pants with suspenders, a waistcoat and a suit jacket. it’s a set he’d gotten for his eighteenth birthday from his father. sometime ago, he’d decided to save it for very special occasions. and if being alone with jisoo for the first time outside of the wen estate grounds and the billiard room in the hong residence isn’t a special occasion, he’s not quite sure what is.

 

he paces the dormitory as he dresses, whistling to relieve the butterflies in his stomach.

 

“why’re you dressed all nice, buck?” mingyu asks from his bunk, attention wavering from the military manual he’d been studying. wonwoo and hansol look up from polishing their shoes, showing equal interest. 

 

“can’t i?” seungcheol tugs at his waistcoat to straighten it, letting his arms fall to his sides. he takes a glance at his reflection in the mirror and huffs out a breath. putting on the suit jacket, he smooths out his hair one last time for good measure. he turns away to collect the keys on his bed, ignoring the quizzical stares from his juniors burning holes through his back.

 

“get to bed by curfew,” seungcheol tells them, heading towards the door.

 

“we should be telling _you_ that!” mingyu sounds almost offended.

 

“enjoy your date,” seungcheol hears someone else say, right before he closes the door behind him. 

 

it’s the unmistakeable low rumble of jeon wonwoo’s voice. seungcheol makes a mental note to mark him down for excellent observational skills in his squad member report later.

 

 

 

 

“you look nice.”

 

“that’s all you’ve got?” seungcheol holds a hand over his heart, then grabs jisoo’s, squeezing it. “you’re gorgeous, as always.”

 

jisoo ducks his head, an abashed smile gracing his features. he focuses on the vehicle behind seungcheol instead. “yours?” he asks, even though he knows the answer is a definite no. it’s a sleek, dark blue automobile — a duesenberg, at that — seungcheol’s never even dreamed of driving before, yet here he is. 

 

“i called in a few favours,” seungcheol leads jisoo to the passenger side, opening the door. he doesn’t mention that the few favours had really only been one favour done by a conspiring wen junhui. (“take it,” junhui had shoved the car keys into seungcheol’s hand with insistence, “jisoo deserves this. you both deserve this.”)

 

jisoo settles in and leans back to look up at the clear sky, and it’s all just too much for seungcheol to take — from the smooth span of jisoo’s exposed neck, to the sound of his exhilarated laughter when seungcheol steps on the gas pedal, speeding away from the cleanly trimmed shrubbery and trees lining the road to the hong residence. the magnanimous afternoon sun lends its rays upon them, and jisoo’s golden in seungcheol’s eyes. 

 

they eventually get to the heart of the city. the theatre is crowded with patrons waiting to see adored film stars in their roles. the film jisoo and seungcheol end up watching is a comedy-drama starring a young actor seungcheol is quite sure he’s seen at a few of the wen estate parties before. 

 

“he’s one of junhui’s friends,” jisoo says, when they take their seats, “i’ve had tea at his residence before.” 

 

the nonchalant tone in his voice comes off as a surprise to seungcheol at first, but then he thinks, _of course_. 

 

the lights dim, signalling the start of the film. the room is monochromatic when the screen lights up, and everyone hushes to pay attention to the film instead.

 

halfway through it, seungcheol reaches over jisoo’s lap and slides a finger over the ring on jisoo’s little finger. his palm envelops the back of jisoo’s hand and like clockwork, their digits slip right between each other’s, interlocking them perfectly. seungcheol’s thumb brushes the edge of jisoo’s hand in smooth strokes. jisoo does the same with the side of seungcheol’s pinky.

 

they sit like this for the next hour, up until the credits roll at the end of the film. 

 

by the time they exit the theatre, it’s about 7 o’clock and the streets are filled with city dwellers in their respective vehicles — the traffic congestion is very likely due to everyone trying to get home all at once after a whole day at work. 

 

seungcheol and jisoo discuss the picture as they walk down the pavement. overhead, the buildings are starting to light up as the sky darkens, rapidly transitioning into nightfall.

 

“so is he a friend of yours, as well, this — lee seokmin?” 

 

“he’s an acquaintance. he’s quite nice, judging from the first time i was invited over to his place with junhui. i’ve never properly talked to him since.”

 

“i noticed him at the parties.”

 

jisoo hums in response. “junhui keeps telling him he’ll fade into obscurity in a couple of years. because of talkies, you know. he doesn’t believe it.”

 

“do you believe it?”

 

“anything can happen, i think.” something in the way jisoo looks off into the distance indicates that there’s something he’s not saying. 

 

seungcheol isn’t sure if he wants to push for a thorough explanation. he laces his fingers with jisoo’s and brings him away from the crowded streets. the rushing throng barely spares a glance in their direction, and there are no watchful eyes noticing them stumble into an alleyway.

 

“what —?”

 

“shh.”

 

seungcheol backs jisoo up against the wall and gently bumps his forehead against the other’s. his eyes flicker from jisoo’s down to his lips. tilting jisoo’s chin with his knuckle, seungcheol kisses him with fervour, the famished feeling in him roaring for more. jisoo responds with the same amount of enthusiasm, licking into seungcheol’s mouth and slipping his hand down from seungcheol’s lower back. seungcheol uses his teeth to tug at jisoo’s bottom lip, then runs his tongue over it, eliciting a soft noise from jisoo that hits him straight in the groin. 

 

it’s feverish, the way they push and pull at each other, and neither are quite satiated until seungcheol grinds against jisoo with a frustrated groan. jisoo moves accordingly to match his rhythm, eyes fluttering to a close. they keep up the delicious friction between them, and it’s taking all of seungcheol’s self-restraint to not undress jisoo right there and then. he slows down the pace, eventually stopping, and jisoo mewls in protest.

 

“patience, sweetheart,” seungcheol whispers, giving jisoo a peck. he leads him out of the alleyway and into the streets again. they take quick steps — start to run, even, towards a motel seungcheol knows is just around the corner of the block ahead.

 

when they finally get a room to themselves, all previous inhibitions are long gone. 

 

their clothes end up strewn haphazardly across the floor. seungcheol relishes in all the wonderful noises jisoo makes when he sucks bruises all over jisoo’s skin. he pins jisoo down on the bed with his hands over his head, hovering over him and continuing what they’d started earlier.

 

“god, you feel so good,” seungcheol throws his head back in pleasure, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he rocks desperately against jisoo, giving him sloppy kisses along the way. there’s only the sheer material of their underwear keeping them from total contact with each other.

 

“seungcheol, please,” jisoo mutters his name fervently, and seungcheol decides his name has never sounded better spilling out of jisoo’s mouth like this. the familiar heat is coiling up in the lower half of his body, but he’s not quite ready to let himself go just yet — not before jisoo does, anyway.

 

“cheol…” jisoo moans when seungcheol halts the pace yet again, but seungcheol has other ideas.

 

sliding down jisoo’s body, seungcheol’s eyes are affixed to the strained erection in jisoo’s underwear. leaning down, he mouths at it through the damp material, immediately feeling jisoo’s fingers tugging at his hair. seungcheol looks up to see jisoo’s eyes shut, bottom lip between his teeth. he whines, “more, cheol.” seungcheol is only too eager to comply.

 

the night goes on like this — seungcheol puts his all into reducing jisoo into a shaking mess, taking delight in the sight of jisoo’s pretty lips parting to release laboured breaths upon reaching his climax. the searing sensation overcoming his own body comes only a while later, jisoo’s overwhelming heat surrounding him and the sounds jisoo making toppling him right over the edge. 

 

seungcheol cleans them up before getting caught up in the mix of limbs and sheets, not knowing or caring where either one starts or ends. he presses a kiss to jisoo’s forehead, and jisoo lazily returns the gesture along seungcheol’s collarbones. he noses the curve of where seungcheol’s neck meets his jawline before going still, leaving seungcheol with only the tides of his breathing to accompany him into the night.

outside, the vehicles continue to honk and beep at each other and the city is illuminated with shades upon shades of colour and antics upon impetuous antics of its inhabitants. somewhere, a group of reckless friends lose themselves to inebriation and music loud enough to shake up an entire apartment complex. a lonely soul looks out their window, preparing to play their wind instrument into the unhearing night.

 

seungcheol assumes all of the above to be a detrimental part of his near future. he considers the temporariness of it all, thinks of whether or not the risk of falling in love with someone and someplace so different than what he’s accustomed to is one that’s worth taking. the uncertainty of what’s next unsettles yet excites him.

 

_anything can happen, i think_. 

 

he threads his fingers through jisoo’s hair, and assures himself the ache in his chest when he feels the sleeping figure stir in his arms is bearable. it’s all he can do to assume the best of the impending anything — at least for the time being. 


End file.
